The Betrayal - By Ruth Langan Page 0,53

the hat from his head and bowed. “Good day to you, my lady. Have ye been enjoying the gardens?”

“Aye. They’re lovely.” She glanced around. “I was hoping to share my walk with the lady Hazlet, but I saw no sign of her.”

“If she’s not in the gardens, then perhaps she’s at the tombs. She visits daily, though it brings her no comfort.” His voice lowered respectfully. “I fear the lady will never find peace until she joins Ranald in that other world.”

“You think she desires death?”

The old man gave an expressive shrug of his shoulders. “I know not, my lady. But this much I know. She finds no pleasure in this life.” He seemed about to say more, but thought better of it and simply said, “Would you like one of the servants to take you to the tombs?”

Kylia shook her head. “I’m told they lie beneath the castle.”

“They do. If you go, take a candle, my lady, for it’s dark and infested with all manner of vermin.”

His words sent a shiver along Kylia’s spine as she turned away.

Chapter Seventeen

With Wee Lad safely locked in her chambers, Kylia made her way down the narrow stone steps beneath the chapel. As she held her candle aloft she could see rodents scurrying across the dirt floor below. Above her head were rough-hewn timbers resting on columns of boulders that supported the structure.

She’d already begun to regret her decision to come here. It would be far wiser to wait until the morrow, when she could confront Hazlet in the sunny garden. Or perhaps she could persuade Ardis to take her to Hazlet’s chambers, where the two women could converse in private. It would be much more civilized.

If she continued on this course of action, she would have to deal with not only her suspicion, but the gloom and darkness of a catacomb. It was too daunting to contemplate. She was by nature a sunny person. She would prefer to deal with Hazlet in the light of day.

As she turned to retrace her steps, she heard a sound that had her stopping in her tracks. A woman’s voice, moaning.

Had Hazlet fallen? If so, she would be lying hurt and alone in this horrid place. Despite her reluctance, Kylia’s tender heart wouldn’t permit her to flee. Turning back, she descended the last of the steps and followed the sound along a dark, narrow passageway. As she rounded a curve, she paused to stare at the scene before her.

Massive stone doors had been thrown wide, the timber used to secure them tossed to one side. Kylia stepped into a room that served as a family burial vault with perhaps a dozen crypts hewn of stone, resting above ground on stone pedestals. An ornately carved angel, arms aloft in welcome, stood guard in the center of the room. The flickering light of several torches thrust into niches in the walls sent eerie shadows dancing across the ceiling.

“My lady. Where are you? Are you hurt?” Kylia crossed the room, searching for the source of the cry.

She spotted Hazlet, who had flung herself across one of the crypts and lay, arms splayed as though trying to embrace the one buried within. Great choking sobs were torn from her throat.

Not hurt. Awash in grief.

Stunned by the depth of Hazlet’s grief, Kylia turned away, ashamed of herself for intruding on such an intimate scene.

Before she could withdraw, Hazlet lifted her head and fixed Kylia with a look of fury. In a flash she was on her feet, charging across the room like some wild creature.

“By what right did you come here to my family home, thinking to offer me the comfort of my lover’s last words? You had no such right, witch.” She shoved Kylia hard enough to send her falling against the stone angel, where the candle slipped from her hand and dropped, sputtering in the dirt. As Kylia hit her head against the stone base, she saw a shower of stars dancing before her eyes.

It took a moment to catch her breath over the pain that was crashing through her. A thin line of blood trickled from her temple, staining her neckline and shoulder of her gown.

Thunderstruck at the violence of her actions, Hazlet stood over her, her hand to her mouth, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to…” She sounded thoroughly confused. “I only meant to convey my anger. I never meant to…” She stooped down. “You’re bleeding.”

Kylia gave a